Rambling Digressions: Friday Night And A Bottle Of Wine

“By my rambling digressions
I perceive myself to be growing old.”
– Benjamin Franklin


I had a dream last night that Nick got a job in Tampa. We were all set to move to Tampa when he found out that he had a better offer in San Diego making $100,000 as an engineer. He told me to pack up the house, which in the dream wasn’t our real house, and get ready to move. I remember thinking in the dream that I didn’t really want to go to San Diego of all places, and I wondered what I was going to do about my kids. I think there was also a part about a rotary telephone.

A rotary telephone. Of course.

When I woke up, I couldn’t shake the dream. It wasn’t a good dream. It’s not usually the true nightmares that stay with me. It’s dreams like this one that are disturbing in some weird way that haunt me throughout the day.

I’m sitting in the garage now drinking a bottle of Mixed Up Red. The bottle says “California.” Ha. That’s fitting. I don’t think they make wine in San Diego, though. I didn’t pick the wine for its name or for its California origins. I picked it because I was in Walmart in a rush to grab a few things for dinner, and I wanted a bottle of wine. On the shelf in front of me, there was Apothic Red and Mixed Up Red. We’ve had Apothic Red several times, so I went for the new one.

If you judge me for shopping at Walmart, then fuck you.

There. I said it.

I’m sitting in the garage in my poofy jacket with the fake fur collar that I bought at Old Navy last year. Nick has on a red, white and blue knit hat. It’s a toboggan or skull cap or whatever you call it. It’s a hat. It looks good on him. I bought it the other day at Walmart for $2. I’ll leave out the fuck you part this time. He also has on his gray zip up hoodie from Tar-jay. I guess I was being fancy the day I bought that.

Target is more expensive than Walmart for almost everything. If you doubt that, then you have enough money not to worry about it.

I need heat in my house more than I need Target. Last year, our bill got up to $260. $260 for a little tiny house with one bathroom and no dishwasher. It’s because we have single pane windows. I complained to the landlord, and they came to do an estimate on storm windows. I knew we wouldn’t get them, though, and we didn’t. So, we sit in the house with our cute toboggans and furry coat collars and keep the heat off for as long as possible.

Maybe I can convince them to replace the thermostat this year. I think it’s from 1965.

I take a break, and I see that someone on Facebook has posted, “Go outside and look at the moon right now! Its amazing!” YES. Yes, I think. This is what I need. I need the moon and the stars right now. So, I go outside, but the whole sky is clouds. No moon. No stars.

I vow to check again later. I walk back inside. My daughter is watching ALF on DVD. I smile. Maybe my thermostat is actually from 1969 when we landed on the moon. Or maybe it’s from Melmac.

The kids are wearing their new pajamas with the fuzzy pants from Walmart. They refuse to sleep in PJs. They sleep naked. I convinced them to try sleeping in their pajamas again last week. Ari kept his on, but Hannah had to take her pants off. She said they were riding up her butt.

Hannah asks if we can turn on the heat.

I turn it on. To 58 degrees. Did I mention that the month our heating bill was $260, I never had the heat set above 58 degrees?

One day, we will live in apartment downtown with a dishwasher and double pane windows. Hopefully, it won’t be in San Diego.

On second thought, it’s 79 degrees in San Diego right now. Maybe I was so cold last night that I dreamt about moving to a warmer place. Why the hell else would I pick Tampa and San Diego?

I take another sip of wine. I have to say that this is pretty good $8 wine. Mixed Up Red. The name seems to fit at the moment.

“By my rambling digressions I perceive myself to be growing old.” Old? I was 39 on Tuesday. This is why I just had cake, even though I am cutting weight back to 75 kg. My birthday was Tuesday, but the kids were with their dad, so I decided to have birthday cake tonight. I got three larges slices of cake for us to share instead of a whole cake – chocolate, red velvet, and carrot cake. The cake was from Walmart, and it was delicious. $1.88 per slice or something like that. Walmart really likes to end their prices with the number 8.

I walk outside. Still no moon, just clouds. I can only see three stars clearly.

I’ll try again tomorrow.

Author: Tamara Reynolds

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